


Stealing Crumbs

by HSavinien



Series: Affection is a Warm Thing [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Con Artists, Developing Relationship, Feelings, Nonbinary Dwarves, Other, Pre-Canon, Present Tense, Theft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,501
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997842
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HSavinien/pseuds/HSavinien
Summary: Nori buys Ori a present from the quiet toymaker and somehow keeps running into the toymaker's friendly cousin.  (How did this happen?  Where did the feelings come from? Nori sure doesn't know!)





	Stealing Crumbs

Nori buys something from the big, quiet toymaker for the youngest Ri's nameday: a dancing bird puppet with tiny mica-chip eyes and the barest outline of silvery-black feathers that make even carved wood look alive. Ori gasps in delight, eyes big and shiny, then in a rush lifts Nori nearly off the ground with a thank-you hug as warm as wool.

Dori _tsks_ and frets, but Nori ignores it. The toymaker sells at fair prices and it isn't Dori's money to mind. They're all eating, they're all housed, they're all (for given values thereof) employed. Dori's present is a far more sensible set of new quills and a little mortar and pestle for grinding inks. Ori loves those too, of course, and tucks them safely away in the leather satchel with the rest of the carefully-collected scribal kit, but Nori fancies that the bird is a better present. It isn't often that any of them get something _impractical_.

* * *

The next time Nori's in the Halls, ambling through the marketplace, two other dwarves are managing the toymaker's stall. The big, red-haired one smiles shyly, hands busy with a mortar several sizes larger than Ori's, from which rises a sharp scent of spice. The darker one with the hat keeps up a line of cheerful patter, hands waving extravagantly at the stall's wares. Nori saunters over.

"-And you, my good dwarf, surely some child of your house could do with a bauble, a clever toy?"

"I bought a dancing crow for my younger sib a few weeks back," Nori says. "It's good work, well done. Where's the toymaker gone off to?"

"Unwell today. We mind the stall when cousin Bifur can't. Bofur, at your service."

"Bombur, at your service," the bigger dwarf echoes, bobbing a nod.

"Nori, at yours."

"I'll pass along your compliments to my cousin," Bofur says, with a grin and a wink. "Tell your friends, tell your neighbors, Bifur's toys are well-crafted, beautiful, and priced for all households!"

Nori doesn't bother hiding a grin. That was a carefully-pitched, carrying volume. The toymaker's cousin is loud and too friendly by half. It's a good trait in a merchant.

Bofur staggers back, clutching at a threadbare lapel and presumably the heart beneath it. "And a compliment from such a handsome dwarf, too? Your smile lights your eyes like bronze under torchflame." The dwarf winks at Nori.

Bombur rolls weary eyes up to the ceiling and starts whistling. Nori recognizes the tune, one about a flattering elf who traipses around all lovesick cooing at her beloved until falling in a river and drowning because she isn't minding her footing. Bofur swats backwards and misses when Bombur leans out of range, turns pink and bows to Nori once again.

Nori laughs and bows back elaborately, glancing up through fluttering eyelashes to see Bofur turn even redder. The toymaker's cousins are too sweet. Bofur in particular needs to learn not go twitterish over fancy hair and a roguish look. It's not safe. Imagine a grown dwarf, easily twenty years older than Ori, still so easy to flatter. __

* * *

Not three evenings later, Nori's strolling faux-aimlessly, recalibrating mental maps against the ongoing construction on the outskirts of the Halls and checking for new escape routes and hidey-holes. Turning a corner, Nori trips and staggers. The unexpected soft footing groans and shifts, revealing itself to be a sodden-drunk, snoring Bofur. Nori curses and spins quickly, checking all the approaches to make sure that neither of them are in imminent danger and this isn't some sort of trap set especially for soft-headed or soft-hearted passersby. The alley is clear, though, of all but the one sleeping dwarf now snuffling awake to peer up at Nori from under that floppy hat.

"Toy-seller Bofur, you are completely tiddled," Nori informs the cheerful idiot on the ground.

"Oh yes," Bofur agrees, smiling wider. "'m a miner usually though. And you're pretty."

"So you've told me, Miner Bofur," Nori says solemnly. "Got all your fingers? Anyone pinched your purse?"

"Awww, you care!"

Nori stares upwards, checking the eaves for spare stores of patience. “Psh. I just don’t like unnecessary mess. Have you got a room somewhere?”

“Lapis Street, two doors north of the chandler,” Bofur recites with the precision of someone who’s been drilled to remember it even in their cups.

“Right. I’ll walk you home,” Nori says. Together, they get Bofur mostly vertical, partly draped over Nori’s shoulder, and stumbling in the correct direction. Bofur droops, and veers off toward walls, and pets Nori’s arms. Nori sighs, and course-corrects, and internally bemoans whichever fools let this dwarf grow up such an easy mark. Halfway there, Bofur starts singing, a sweet low travel song and Nori stops minding quite so much.

The house is small but noisy, with the sound of dwarves leaking out every crack and window. Bofur lurches against the door with a thump and Bombur opens it. Young faces from gangly adolescents all the way down to crawling babes peek around the edges of the doorframe, filling it in bewildering numbers, exclaiming at them and chattering to each other. Bombur pries Bofur off Nori and nods thanks. Nori shrugs, and slips out of sight. Soonest gone, soonest forgotten.

Around the corner, Nori pulls out the contents of Bofur’s jacket pockets. There’s a miner’s alarm whistle, a piece of flint, and a pewter disc with a few tally-marks on one side and an elongated spiral on the other. “Hmm.” Nori flips the pewter token spinning into the air, catches it, and slides the lot into an inner pocket. Nothing worth the trouble.

* * *

Trouble starts tailing Nori, which means avoiding Dori’s “I told you!”s and laying low. Nori’s hair is distinctive on purpose. Once it’s braided down into a plain miner’s plait and rinsed with walnut juice to darken it, half the dwarves who can positively identify “that red-haired sneak” could pass Nori in a crowd without a second glance.

Lying low also means skipping Nori’s regular haunts, so when Bofur plops down on the next stool two drinks into a meal in one of the less-exciting taverns, it’s not really that surprising. Bofur tosses a coin onto the counter for a drink and says, “Handsome Nori, what have you done to your pretty hair?” which is a bit startling.

Nori evaluates the options fast. Denial gets loud. Confusion leads to insistence, which will also end up memorable. Violence will definitely be noticeable, and it's not what Nori really wants at the moment either. There’s no good choice. “What, you don’t think it suits me?”

Bofur chuckles. “Not a bit. And I don’t think you do either, unless you’ve damaged your eyes somehow.”

Nori bats darkened lashes at Bofur. "I think they're working fine."

Bofur's eyes twinkle. "They look it."

The dwarf behind the bar slides a mug over to Bofur, who takes it, but doesn't leave. "Can I buy you something sweet to finish your supper off?"

"Not after you've insulted my hair," Nori sniffs.

Bofur scooches a bit closer. "It's only that it's so fine usually, it's a blow to see it changed for something plain," Bofur says, low and sweet. "Who wouldn't be sad to see a ruby swapped for agate?"

Nori scoffs and flaps a hand to clear the nonsense from the air. Bofur sits back, grinning, and chats at Nori the rest of the evening, talking about Bombur and Bombur's spouse and many many offspring - six! - and Bifur's toy stall and the mine gossip and Nori doesn't really mind it, not with useful tidbits about the mood in the mountains and the new calls for iron to be gleaned from long-ago stripped tunnels tucked into the chatter.

Nori slips Bofur's flint and whistle back into the helpfully presented jacket pocket as the miner leans forward, pushing up off the bar to leave. Payment for entertainment and gossip. Not the pewter token though. Nori still wants to figure out what that's for.

* * *

Nori pays off the biggest problem by snitching an incriminating paper, walking out the front door with the confidence of a busy dwarf in a tunic that Dori will be unhappy about unless Nori gets it clean of the smell of the merchant’s imported pipeweed. There’s no point washing it at home or the soap will be missed. Nori goes in search of a laundry.

The toymaker, Bifur, nods friendly-like as Nori passes the stall, and Nori wonders what is even the point of a carefully constructed disguise if near strangers can see straight through it. Nori stops though, and puts on a charming smile to ask if Bifur can point the way to a laundry. Bifur nods and Nori knows enough sign to follow the directions Bifur spells out efficiently. With a courtly bow, Nori trots off in the direction Bifur pointed.

The laundry isn't far. The sign above the door sports a familiar symbol: an elongated spiral that probably represents a wringer or something like that.

Nori stole Bofur's laundry chit.

Every time they meet, it's ridiculous. This is just the latest example of that. It makes sense that Bifur would suggest this place then, if it's somewhere the family frequents.

Nori sighs and checks the surroundings and spots, not danger, but the round ginger bustle of Bofur's sib Bombur. The laundry apparently abuts a bakery, which isn't a bad idea once Nori thinks about it. Both of them need constant heat. Why not let the fuel do double duty? Bombur is busy at the back ovens, whisking busily. Nori considers slipping the token into the voluminous apron Bombur wears, but it's unsubtle. It would be too unlikely a place for it to end up and if Bombur recognizes Nori too…

No, best to keep it until a better chance presents itself. Nori shifts out of eyeshot of the bakery and heads into the laundry to get the bedamned shirt cleaned.

* * *

Ori begs for Nori's help. The scribal apprentices are learning illustration and Ori wants to practice drawing dwarves. Nori agrees, on the condition that Ori change out some facial features in the ones that will go to the masters. No sense having a thief’s mug for all those high-ranking scholars to look at and associate with Ori-the-innocent-apprentice. The reason Ori gets is “Because you need to practice doing different noses and eyes. If all your pictures of the heroes of old look like me or Dori, we’ll get swelled heads.” Ori laughs.

Dori is busy enough in the shop not to object when Nori whisks Ori off to the marketplace to sit and practice watching. Ori does rough little sketches of dwarves walking by. Nori whets a knife until satisfied that nobody needs menacing, then pulls out a needle and waxed thread to make last year's coat seams more watertight. Ori hums, tongue tip sticking out just a bit and slate pencil squeaking.

Nori takes another look around and spots nobody dangerous. Only the cheery be-hatted figure of Bofur, waving from Bifur's toy stall. Bifur is there too, demonstrating the moving parts of a toy waterwheel to a few interested young dwarves.

"D'you want to go meet the dwarf who made your bird?" Nori asks.

Ori jumps, startled out of concentration. "What? Yes? All right."

Ori tucks the slate pencil behind one ear and trails behind Nori, who saunters over to the toy stall. "Toymaker Bifur, my younger sib, Ori."

Bifur nods and signs a hello.

"Ori, at your service," Ori says and bows very properly.

"Oh, and Bofur the miner, Bifur's cousin," Nori adds when Bofur's face droops.

"At your service," Ori repeats, and turns back to Bifur. "Thank you for making the lovely crow puppet. I'm still learning how to make it move right, but I like it very much."

Nori lounges against the wall by Bofur as Ori and Bifur go over the mechanics of some of the other puppets. "How's mining?" Nori asks.

"Hard on the back, hard on the clothes." Bofur says, watching Nori sidelong. "Digging where there's nothing to find is a bit frustrating."

Nori knows that's an invitation. At least one, really. "I'd bet." Nori smirks in Bofur's direction. "You do clean up well."

Nori watches fondly as Ori's face lights with interest, peppering Bifur with questions and barely waiting to see the answers.

"Ori's clever," Bofur observes.

"Oh yes, bright little spark of ours," Nori says. "Apprenticed as a scribe. You said Bombur's oldest two are 'prenticed out too, right?"

They chat, trading flattery and family gossip and Nori does that now, with this too-vulnerable fool of a dwarf. Nori claps Bofur on the shoulder and drops the laundry chit into Bofur's breast pocket. "You should join me for supper. A week from today?"

Bofur turns pink. "Ye- no, miner's guild meeting. It'll go late. The next day?"

Nori winks. "See you at The Last Seam, an hour after you get off work. You're still on second crew?"

"Aye. See you then." Nori nods, collars Ori, and marches them away with a polite bow to Bifur.

"Did you have fun?"

"Yes," Ori sighs with satisfaction. "Toymaker Bifur is so smart with those fiddly little gears. I think it must take loads of time to make everything work right."

"Likely. Did you get some good sketches?"

And Ori chatters about drawing and toy design all the way home.

* * *

Nori is skint. Normally that's not a problem, and in the long run it won't be this time either. But in the short term, Nori hasn't got enough to pay for a drink, let alone a meal at a decently-clean eating house. It's still early, so there's time to rectify this, but it's not how Nori planned to spend the day. Nori's unexpectedly bothered by it.

Nori rebraids beard and hair into something boring and forgettable and dresses with the necessary amount of distressed gentility to fit the role for the morning’s excursion. Packing the basics of the con artist's craft, Nori heads out of the Halls toward the trader camps that border the Lune, looking for some targets. Mostly Nori wants someone foolish, but better somebody greedy. No honest trader would take the deal Nori offers them.

The riverbanks have a fair traffic of boats and carts, with tables out to display goods and Men and dwarves haggle and argue with themselves and each other. Nori sets out a stool near the edge of the mass, rolls out a blanket and arranges the bait temptingly. Brass with the thinnest sheen of gilding over the base metal, tiny crystals oiled to glint like diamond, all in designs that look old and heavy and valuable to someone who doesn’t know better.

Nori sits and pastes on a forced, worried smile and wrings carefully clean hands and watches for a mark. It won’t do to attract someone who’s just arrived. Nori needs some pinch-mouthed Man who has already seen the fair prices dwarven jewelers charge for their work and doesn’t like it. It takes only a few hours, during which Nori polishes the bait several times, drums nervous fingers on the stool, and jumps up eagerly whenever someone looks interested.

A pale tall Man with black hair in a horsetail and a mouth set for sneering stops at Nori's sad little stall and looks the offerings over.

"How much for that necklace?" The Man asks, gesturing scornfully at the best piece of the lot.

"If you please…" Nori falters and names a sum with a plaintive little uptilt on the end of a number that would be low if the jewelry were what it appeared.

The Man snorts and Nori knows that the bait is set in the sucker's mouth. All that's left is to reel it in. "Too high, far too high, like the rest of the prices in this whole grasping market. Half that."

"I couldn't sell for so low!" Nori protests. "I would not sell such family treasures at all if medicine were not so dear."

The Man's sneer hardens, and Nori feels contempt lock in behind the desperate facade that goes with the character. Some people deserve what Nori dishes out.

With some more haggling and wringing of hands, Nori parts with the necklace and a crystal-set armband. The prices would be scandalously low if they had been real gold and diamond. As it is, Nori packs up with five times the price the fakes had taken to craft and slips away from the camp. No need to stick around, just in case. 

* * *

Nori gets back with only an hour to prepare before it'll be time to meet Bofur. Nori strips out of the shabby finery and pitches it at the hamper, suddenly sick of it. Running rough fingers through the perfectly respectable braids, Nori kicks the last sock off and stands bare and loose-haired and panting furious in the middle of the bedroom and hates. Every last person who's fallen for that con, every crooked guard who wants a bribe to keep Dori's shop safe, every apprentice who moved ahead because their family knew someone while no-name Ori still worked diligently at the lowest tasks. Nori even spreads some of that hate a little farther afield than usual and thinks some vicious thoughts toward the useless courtiers who keep the miners digging for nothing in a played out mine simply because they can't be arsed to listen to the dwarves who know better.

Nori dresses with that same viciousness, in a flattering purple shirt, a gray vest with silver worked into the embroidery, and tight trousers. Nori ducks into the kitchen when Dori bustles in, home from the shop, and presses a smack of a kiss to Dori's cheek.

"Can you help with my hair?" Nori asks, for the first time in years. Dori pauses only for a moment, then gets Nori plopped down on the stool and fetches the comb and the amber hair cream in about five seconds flat. Ori comes home as Dori finishes tying off the last of Nori's braids and pats the peak of the tallest pouf to make sure it's stable.

"You're dressed up nice," Ori observes.

Dori _tsks_ and gathers the youngest Ri's bag from the floor. "Nori's going out for a nice dinner with someone, so I should hope so! It's only courteous to dress nicely; it shows you're paying attention and value them."

Nori groans. "I'm having dinner with a friend. No need to get excited about it!"

Ori grins and Nori claps a hand to Ori's mouth before it can open again. "And nothing from you. You've got noses to practice, I'm sure."

Nori pecks Ori on the top of the head and shoots out the door before either sibling can add more commentary.

* * *

Nori picks Bofur's pocket the minute the miner walks in the door, the barest brush of fingers against fabric. The narrow box Nori finds goes straight to Nori's vest, tucked away without a glance. Giving Bofur a chance to blink against the light, Nori slides into a seat a few tables away, then waves.

Bofur grins, and it creases cheeks and shows a flash of teeth that is charming in a way Nori could never replicate. Bofur looks well, walking over in just a little bit of a hurry. Bofur's tidied up, braids neat and oiled, shirt a fine pale blue that looks faded but clean and with carefully mended cuffs. The jacket has been brushed, boots polished, and Bofur takes off the ever-present hat and sets it on the table before sitting.

"Evening, handsome Nori," Bofur says cheerfully. "Do you want a look at your present now or later?"

Nori cocks an eyebrow and smiles. Bofur goes pink. "A present?"

"Aye." Bofur forges ahead, blushing harder. "I couldn't say where it is now, but it's in the box that was in my pocket."

Nori freezes.

"It's for you," Bofur repeats. "Do you want to look at it now?"

Slowly, Nori pulls the box out and drops it on the table between them.

"Aye, that's it. Do you want to open it?"

Nori stares at Bofur, who is red and bashful and still smiling. "You're ridiculous."

"Pfffh," Bofur says. "You're the one who pinched my laundry token for three weeks."

Nori flicks the catch on the box. Inside is an iron pen nib, a pretty teaspoon, and a decorative hairpin with a surprisingly strong, sharp tip.

"I thought it would be nice to bring something for your family too," Bofur says and Nori's up and leaning over the table to grab Bofur for a kiss to demonstrate just exactly how nice it was.

"I'm keeping you," Nori informs Bofur once they're sat back down. "Now let's get something to eat."

Bofur laughs and laughter in Bofur's voice is as good as the singing was all those weeks ago. Nori tucks the gifts away and smiles with intent and appreciation. Bofur hides behind the ridiculous hat for a moment, but drops it and smiles back and it warms Nori straight through.


End file.
